I'm waiting for another perfect purple rain. One that can make me feel at ease despite the living pain. I know each sprinkle is different from before. But I'm convinced, from the clouds it will all pour.

Waiting for it to drench my ever-longing soul. Future-oriented heart that achingly sore. Discontent eyes that overlooked all the blessings I had before, and might miss all the other gifts of Present in store.

I changed my mind. Now, I'm waiting for a green shower rain. One that tranquils this ever-soaring mind. A shower rain that reminds me to stand still and be soaked. Soaked by the beauty of mindfulness. Sublime.

Sky darkens with a promise of a new downpour that I'm wishing. The air is heavy with anticipation, carrying the scent of petrichor. For? Nothing. But maybe I'm just clueless. This pleasant earthy scent that often accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather, is a sign of an answered prayer. I know it has a function. But like what I've said, I'm clueless. 'Who ever increases knowledge, increases pain.' So I appreciate its existence, but I'm no longer eager to know its essence. Not everyone appreciates this scent. It can make them feel sick.

Each droplet a messenger of renewal, a reminder of nature's relentless cycle, I stand on the threshold, ready to embrace the cleansing embrace of the rain. As the first green shower rain drops fall, I'm self-absorbed.

The world fades into a blur as I focus on the melody of the raindrops. Like a mellow musical ensemble. With lead and bass. (If that's what they call it in guitar world) I seized it, I closed my eyes to feel it. The quietness of my mind can hear the surroundings. Seems I can recognize even its most subtle decibel. Even the crisp sound of rain drops on each blade of grass. And I'm slowly heading on the edge of my emotions.

The heat. The spark. The sun. The park. The dried grass on the ground. The dried leaves blown never been found. The golden sunshine afterlunch, I long it will reach my heart's window pane. And. I will feel alive again.

Checking in my emotions, remembering the former climate. See how this soul breathing in discontent. After realizing the arrival of petrichor and rain, the lost summer is now lingering in my brain.

Maybe the comparison is what makes each season appeal. It makes different season highlight its distinct features. The presence of one, heightens the absence and the memory of the other.

And the absence of one thing, heightens its significance.

But its very absence must also force me to appreciate whatever is present.

Summer I long. And the shower rain makes me appreciate that hot extreme weather. My
gloomy-weather-sweater-weather-blankets-on-shoulder-coffee-blended-with-hard-cover-books-introverted-routine? I left it in my house. I never let myself carry that structured mindset, that fixed-cozy system of comfort in my being. Today, I'm out to seize the rain.

Gonna spend outdoors til night time. Let me unwind. Embrace the vibes. The chill. The breeze. From outside. This is the fulfillment of my wishful thinking when I once said:

"Summer is hot. Please bring the rain."
"I'm wishing for a green shower rain. One that tranquils this ever-soaring mind. A shower rain that reminds me to stand still and be soaked. Soaked by the beauty of mindfulness. Sublime."

~end~
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